


Moon Cycle

by Bawgdan



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, General, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 05:50:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13241778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bawgdan/pseuds/Bawgdan
Summary: A broken clock is right twice a day.





	Moon Cycle

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Soi Fon tows the line of hateful, sometimes flirting with the concept of misanthropy. She hasn't broken her silence for a few centuries. It has made her quite difficult to handle, but at some point, _not quite after Yoruichi's disappearing act_ , the way her muscles hugged her bones stopped feeding her pride.

Her joints crack mechanically. Success stopped being rewarding. What is a predator to do when it's game ceases to be satisfying?

Soi Fon manages tiny sips from her wine flute without gagging, not at all surprised by the lengths her peers went to avoid her. She can't entirely blame the aristocracy– with the way she scowls at her reflection in a passing mirror, she decides that she wouldn't want to hold a conversation with herself either. Even while dressed in muted modesty.

On the flip side– her name and what little she inherits doesn't warrant attention.

She takes the hall in a sweeping glance until she spots an escape from the fraudulent chatter. She has never understood why she has to attend the glamorous circle-jerks. Everyone looks right through her, as though she doesn't have a name with any importance.

Centuries haven't remedied that.

She's attempted many times to speak their language.

But there has been no point in reshaping herself when all she is known for is her antagonism.

Zaraki had called her a slithering cunt in passing.

It felt more credible than Captain of the 2nd division.

When she slips into the empty garden, she immediately spits into the bush of white roses. Her red saliva stains them but she smiles. She's made them much prettier. With as much sense of duty when she cuts down an enemy, she dumps the rest of the flute into the bush. The petals are drenched and the thorny stems sag under the weight of the alcohol. Soi Fon takes a short step back to behold her mischief, but her back collides into _someone_. Her stomach doesn't flip and pit fall. She's too high off of her act of terrorism.

Straightening herself, she runs her free hand over the loose knot of her sash, turning on her heels to meet the persecuting gaze of Byakuya Kuchiki. But for this moment and another hour or so, she doesn't give a damn about names. She doesn't give a smooth fuck that the Kuchikis have hosted such a pretty event. Too bad, it was their fault for extending the invite, for bothering at all, and for upholding years worth of vanity orgies.

He doesn't speak and she won't either until he says something first.

 _No need to have me escorted out, Captain Kuchiki, I can see myself to the door._ She'd say. Or...

_There's something in the air._

"Do you not find the drinks up to your standards?" It isn't what she had anticipated for him to say. She reminds herself that he's more or less a figure in passing, but she doesn't miss the calculated blow. The needle in the haystack can be found with determination.  Soi Fon allows his words to spear  her so that she can reconcile with her anger.

"Your shrub offended me." She delivers coolly. "I couldn't help myself."

Soi Fon holds the heaviness of his eyes. She fathoms the many times he's won by just scowling a man into shame. _Tonight it won't be me_ – is what she tells herself.

The noise of the function falls to an ambience. Like music that penetrates her sleep. Byakuya's prominent features are frozen in time. Only his hair and sleeves move in the wind. It occurs to her that he hasn't blinked.

"You are invited out of courtesy. No one forces you to participate."

 ** _But_** what she hears is an unspoken truth– she's not unwanted but she's definitely not sought after.

So why does she torture herself? The epiphany hits her like a bad smell. She wipes the corners of her wet lips with the sleeve of her kimono.

 _Cynicism isn't compatible with some hidden desire to be worthy_. Soi Fon shatters her heart and it takes mighty strength to stay still. It's the most exercise her body has gotten. If Byakuya notices her agonizing attempt to remain solid, he doesn't reveal it.

"You're right..." She begins but he walks away.

At least wallflowers are noticed in some capacity. Byakuya had been the first and last person to not see around her the entire evening.

She's done her due diligence. Upholding her name, over achieving in all aspects of her life...Slithering cunt is synonymous with hard working.

_Why am I still so angry?_

But she hasn't asked herself–what does she truly believe in?

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Waking up has become quite the task. For a few meaningful centuries, she rose before the birds. Her favorite time of day used to be those short moments when the stars surround the sun's halo.

**But now....**

It's the right amount of early as she kicks her legs from her sheets. The birds beat her to breakfast and the sunlight bleaches the stars. Soi Fon observes her sharp pointed knees, mutters forty odd numbered 'Fucks' before fully extending her body to rise. Like lightning, her bones crackle.

Her mouth tastes like brass and she immediately remembers spitting in a Kuchiki rose bush. Byakuya's disapproval loops in her conscience as she slides into her captain's attire. In thirty minutes, she has to face him. Her imagination creates a dossier of rebuttals if he so dares to reproach her for that tacky bush. As she stumbles into her socks, she premeditates a good morning for Zaraki.

When she finally perfects her plaits, she takes a long sweeping gander at her reflection.  Resting her hands on her waist, she sucks in her jaws, nodding agreeably. _Same shit different day._

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**Author's Note:**

> Truth be told, I have no idea what this is? The start of something maybe? Depends? I'm not sure. I will think about coming back to it when I'm done with everything else I've got going on.


End file.
